Bloody Battlefield:Sorrow of the Soldier

From: Shonna (kismetkitty@hotmail.com)
Story type: Ghost
Location: Kentucky, USA
Source: Form Submission

"Sunny" lived in a neat little cabin that was nestled in the woodlands near the Nolin River. The caves and cliffs that adorn the landscape make the area a perfect place for young adventurers, and we would often wander out with only our sleeping bags and some food, spending an entire weekend camping and exploring. One of our favorite spots was a giant cliff that very much resembled a stage. "Devil's Stage," as we called it, overlooked a beautiful forest clearing dotted with lush vegetation, scattered boulders and large rock fragments. It was in this area, during one of our many camping expeditions, that I experienced one of the most impressionable paranormal encounters that I have had to date.

"Sunny" and I were great fans of the supernatural and decided on this particular day to hold a s�ance on the ridge of the cliff. The forest was so serenely beautiful; blue skies, white feathery clouds; the birds were singing, insects chirping; the woodland was alive with activity. Solemnly, "Sunny" and I held hands, closed our eyes and began to concentrate on the task at hand. She began to call up the spirits, any spirits that were listening, and requested that they show themselves. We sat there concentrating for what seemed like forever. I was growing weary, so I opened my eyes to peek at her, giggling to myself at the sight of "Sunny's" face; so serious and long. When I gazed out upon the clearing, however, my demeanor changed immediately.

Standing upon one of the larger rock fragments was a young man. He was dressed in what I took to be Civil War soldier attire, grey coat and trousers, ancient rifle in hand. I tried to blink the image away, but instead of disappearing, he became more vivid. Suddenly, I began to have strong feelings of sadness, confusion, and fear. As I peered into his dark, bottomless eyes, I began to see and feel his thoughts. He was indeed a Civil War soldier, lost from his Confederate troop, waiting for death. I saw an image in my mind of a young woman, wringing her hands, pining for her lover. A sorrow like I have never felt before washed over me. I felt like I was this soldier and the worried young woman was my lover, whom I was certain I would never see again. I felt like the war I had been so eager to fight wasn't worth the price of my life with that beautiful woman. Such a bitter sadness filled my heart. I knew I was going to die. That image fading, I witnessed the soldier raising his rifle, firing at enemies I could not see. I heard yelling and whooping, screaming and gunshots. Confusion, rage and fear whirled around in my guts as the unseen battle raged on. Horrified, I wanted the vision to stop immediately, so I withdrew my eyes from the soldier and gazed at the woodland floor. To my terror, it was covered with a bright red pool that looked like blood. The blood pool rose higher and higher until it was finally lapping at the edge of the soldier's stony platform. Intense emotions gripped my heart as the man looked into my eyes once more and then dropped, falling casualty to the enemy's bullets. The soldier then disappeared, but the blood pool kept rising. I was certain it would take me, too.

Meanwhile, (as I was later told by "Sunny"), "Sunny" had opened her eyes to discover that I was staring blankly into the clearing, tears rolling down my cheeks. She said she watched me silently until I began screaming, "No, no, no!" repeatedly and shaking my head. "Sunny" began shaking me, trying to "wake me up," but it wasn't until she slapped me that I came to my senses. She kept saying, "What happened, what happened, what's wrong?" I couldn't speak for a few minutes, I only peered out for traces of the vision, fearful of the rising pool of blood, but there was none. I was trembling all over and sweating, although the bright Autumn day was cool and breezy. "Didn't you see that?" I asked, pale and wide-eyed, when I finally found my voice. "Sunny" had no idea what I had seen, but she was very frightened and concerned with my behavior. "No," she replied, "but you've been screaming and crying for nearly 15 minutes!"

I have never been able to forget the strong emotions that I felt that day, nor the horror of the rising pool of blood. I think about that soldier quite often; the lover he never reunited with, the way it felt to be alone, confused and frightened...For months afterward, I dreamt of being gunshot. The dreams were so real, I could feel the bullet approaching me from behind, creating a tingling sensation as I tried to arch my back away from the bullet's path. I felt it hit, the impact driving me forward, and then penetrate, the hot metal searing a tunnel through my flesh as it entered and then exited out the other side.